Everybody Lies
by WonderPain
Summary: Zexion lands himself in the hospital after a mysterious "accident". There he meets another patient who offers his help, and Zexion has to choose between living alone with his lies and trusting another to save him. A Demyx/Zexion fic, full summary inside.
1. Ch 1: Accident Induced Arrival

**Everybody Lies**

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Full Summary: Zexion is a troubled teen-aged boy who can't seem to stay out of the hospital due to a number of mysterious "accidents". Demyx is a happy-go-lucky teen-aged patient who calls the hospital home. When the two meet, Demyx immediately tries to get close to the mysterious boy- and slowly begins to realize that what you see isn't always what you get, and that sometimes the wounds you can't see are the most painful. Zexion had always lived his life lying and being lied to- and doesn't quite know how to react when he finally meets somebody he can trust. Both will have to reevaluate their initial impressions of the others, and of the world- Demyx will be exposed to a darkness he never knew existed, while Zexion is faced with hope that what he has learned of the world might not be true- and that maybe not _everybody_ lies.

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Pairings: Demyx/Zexion, Axel/Roxas

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Rating: T for some violence/implied violence throughout. (Individual chapters may have a heavier rating, in which case you will be warned.)

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Disclaimer: You all know the drill: The characters do not in any way, shape, or form belong to me; I make no money, or otherwise gain from writing about them, except for personal satisfaction. The characters in their entirety belong to Disney and Square Enix. I am in no way associated with either of these companies. I am also in no way associated with House, I just like the line and thought it would make a good title.

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Note: Not not not! canon! The characters are all in an imaginary universe, in a hospital setting, meaning the characters are all doctors, nurses, patients, etc. Because I'm sick and twisted and like playing God and confusing you all. This story can also be found on deviantart on my account (My username is WonderPain, same as here), in case you get impatient for new chapters, they'll be up there before they're up here, because this story is written for and dedicated to my good friend on DA.

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Also!! This is the first bit of fanfiction I'm showing to the public- don't let it stop you from reading, but do try to be gentle, won't you? It gets better as you go along.

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Chapter 1: Accident-induced arrival

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Even without opening his eyes, he knew exactly where he was. The mercilessly bright light, made harsher by the fact that it was being reflected off a thousand white surfaces- crisp white sheets, blank white walls, perfectly maintained equipment- that, coupled with the sickening scent of unnatural cleanliness made the place unmistakable.

He kept his eyes pressed tightly shut, cursing silently. He lay still for a moment, sucking in a slow breath and letting it out in an irritated huff which quickly turned into a grimace of pain. He couldn't even take a breath to calm himself; when he tried, he could feel his chest strain against bandages wound tightly around his torso, and feel a twinge of pain vibrate through his chest.

He opened his eyes ever so slightly, scowling at the plain white ceiling. The glaring white of the room felt like two fingers poking him heard in each eye. He tilted his head to the left, peering through his lashes at the glass window. From what he could tell from the quality of the light glaring through the glass, it was mid-morning. He must have spent the night here.  
Groaning, he squeezed his eyes shut again and slowly slid his way up the bed. Bracing his back against the headboard, he sat up. He immediately took in a hissing breath through tightly clenched teeth- sitting up had been a bad idea. There was a burning sensation curling around his chest and he had to lean back against the bed as his head swam dizzily: he barely managed to swallow back a wave of nausea that rose in his throat.

He kept his eyes closed and took a few large gulps of air, while the memories of the previous day- the reason he was here- came swimming into focus. Through a sort of fog he remembered….he could hear someone shouting, feel sharp blasts of pain, and the feeling of being thrown end over end… Why? He thought bitterly. Why did it have to happen again?

A sharp noise cut into his memories. He started, and suddenly he was back sitting in a comfortable bed, the pain he felt was dull, and the only sound was of someone opening the door to his hospital room. The boy looked around, and recognized the man as one whom he had spoken to many times before.

The hospital's therapist, a serious, somber man by the name of Saix, had always struck the boy as odd from the day they had met. It wasn't just his appearance that was startling, although this certainly didn't help; the man had scruffy, wild blue hair, sharp yellow eyes, pointed ears, and a large scar in the middle of his face in the shape of a giant 'X'. He had always wondered where Saix had gotten the scar, but had never had the courage to ask him. Mostly because the therapist's personality was anything _but_ warm and comforting. The man, in fact, seemed just as prone to fits of rage as any of his patients, and when he was worked up enough, was _more_ prone to destroying property (and people) then any of his patients on their worst days.

"I'm glad to see that you are awake, Zexion." He said evenly, stepping fully into the room and softly closing the door behind him. "How are you feeling?"

Zexion shrugged indifferently. Every talk they had was the same; Saix would pry, and Zexion would lie. It never came to anything, and nothing ever changed. Saix moved closer to the bed, pulling up a chair and sitting down.

"Well, Zexion," he said, "This is the sixth time you've been in the hospital in the last few months. Care to talk about it?" Zexion managed not to roll his eyes. Barely. Maybe Saix knew it, because he turned so that his gleaming yellow eyes bored into Zexion's blue ones. Zexion blinked, breaking eye contact, and turned to stare out of the window without really seeing it.

"I'm clumsy," he mumbled, shrugging again. "I guess." He chanced a look at Saix; he didn't look convinced, but then again, he never was.

Saix knew he was being lied to, but if it bothered him he didn't show it. He looked perfectly calm as he said, "How did it happen this time?"

"I fell," Zexion replied, "…down the stairs."

Saix gave a curt nod, then, pushing the chair back and standing up, said, "Well, I suppose that's that then." He hesitated, looking down at Zexion; the boy's blue-gray hair fell down to hide half of his face, while the other half was partly obscured by bandages running around his forehead and down his cheek. His cold blue eyes were impassive, and impossible to read. Saix sighed. "If there's anything you want to talk about," he said, "you know where to find me."

Saix turned to leave, but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. As an afterthought, he marched to the window and drew the curtains shut, leaving the room in comfortable semi-darkness. With that, he turned and strode from the room, leaving Zexion alone. He watched Saix go, and, as his footsteps faded away, let out a sigh and looked around his hospital room. It was absolutely identical to every other hospital room he had ever stayed in. The room was nothing special to look at, so he decided to take some internal inventory instead. He thought back and, yes, he could remember everything that had happened the previous day, up to when he had passed out. And even after that he must have been semi-conscious because he vaguely remembered the paramedics being called and then after they arrived, being pulled onto a stretcher and into an ambulance. They must have given him something after that, because he was pretty sure he passed out again. He seemed okay mentally, he decided, but how about physically?

He was so heavily bandaged that it was hard for Zexion to tell exactly where the damage was, so he set to work. He wriggled his toes and fingers, rotated his wrists and ankles, flexed his arms and legs, rolled his neck and shoulders, elbows and knees. He even arched off the bed to twist his hips. All in all, it was better than he had expected. There were some nasty bruises blossoming in places, and his face, ribs and right shoulder were sore and aching and pretty busted up, but it didn't appear that anything was seriously broken (everything was facing the right way, anyways). But then again, he'd have to walk around some before he knew how bad the damage was. The doctors probably wouldn't like that, but Zexion had learned a long time ago not to trust doctors to give him what he needed or to tell him the truth.

He groaned again and leaned back against his pillows. The simple act of sitting up and talking with that shrink had completely drained him of energy. As much as Zexion wanted to get up and stretch his legs, he had to admit that he was too exhausted and sore to really go far. He slid down the bed and wriggled under the covers again. He may as well try to get some sleep. He rolled onto his right side, so that he was turned away from the window and nuzzled his face into the pillow. He was sure with his throbbing head and chest it would take him a long time to get to sleep, but without another thought, his eyes slid closed and his breathing evened out and he was asleep.


	2. Ch 2: Hell and High Water

Author's note: I just wanted to say thank you to everybody who faved my story or added it to alerts or anything like that, and I'd especially like to thank Kiexa for my first ever review!! I know I sound like a total goober saying so, but it was so encouraging that you guys actually like my first story. ^ ^ So thank you!

Also, sorry this chapter is such a short one- the chapters get longer, I promise!

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Chapter 2: Hell and High Water

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He was standing on a wind-swept beach, lifting his face towards the warmth of the newly risen sun. The dawn light was pale and watery, the ocean breeze light and chilly, and it lifted the boy's blue-gray hair off his forehead and swept it back out of his eyes. He looked out over the ocean, his blue eyes shining in the sunlight, bright and content. He had never visited the ocean before, and he had always imagined it beautiful.

He felt a tickling sensation at his feet, and looked down to see thin, minuscule waves lapping at his toes as the water began to rise towards him. He smiled at the curious feeling; the water began to rise past his feet and the water around his ankles felt like tiny hands clasping his skin. The tide was rising faster now; now it was at his knees, and he thought that he should head back to the beach, before the water rose too high. He turned to look behind him only to realize that there was no beach.

There was nothing, nothing but water: a solid, smooth stretch of dark blue extending for miles in every direction. This water was not moving with waves, or sparkling in the sunlight; because suddenly, there _was_ no sunlight. The sky had gone dark, had been drained of color, leaving the sky cold and gray. He looked out at the water, and realized he could not tell where the sky ended and the sea began. The wind picked up and seemed to claw at the exposed skin on his arms.

Zexion looked foreword again: there was something there now. Something bubbling up under the surface of the water, getting larger as it got closer. He looked down and realized that the water around him was rushing foreword… but somehow the water near him never shrank in height, and he felt the water around his knees tighten like metal clasps, keeping him rooted to the spot… he could not have run, even if he had wanted to.

He looked up and watched as the gigantic wave took form; the water seemed to pulse, leaping in time with the beating of his frantic heart. The wave rose, roaring and boiling, higher and higher still, so high that Zexion had to crane his neck to see the frothing white top of it.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to run. But there was nowhere to run to, no one but the sky and the sea and the wind to hear him. All he could do was watch as the torrent of water and foam curled towards the sky and crashed over him.

And then everything was twisting, everything was cold, everything was pain. He was being tossed, rolling over and over again under the violent surface of the water. The waves beat at him like fists, smashing him with a cold so deep it made his bones ache, and rocks jutted out from under him, tearing at his head and shoulders and chest; he curled into a tight ball, closing his eyes against the stinging salt water, feeling the freezing water flood his mouth, chocking him, suffocating him. He could not tell which way was up, which part of his body his pain was coming from, all he knew was that he wanted so badly to be smashed against the rocks… to fall unconscious… to die quickly, before the icy water forced its way down his throat and he was suffocated, slowly…

But he didn't want to die… slowly or not… he didn't want to die cold and alone and in pain… he didn't want this…

_I don't want to die!_


	3. Ch 3: Close Encounters of the Blond Kind

Note: Thanks to** Neon's Twisted Abyss **for my second review!! I'm really glad you liked the second chapter, and I'm glad you like my story enough to look forward to it!! ^^

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Chapter 3: Close Encounters of the Blond Kind

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Zexion woke with a terrible jerk. It was a minute before his mind caught up with his senses; a moment before he realized that his chest was fluttering in fear of a danger that was no longer present, the he was not being tossed and beaten and broken, but that the only pain he was experiencing was the throbbing of his head, and the ache of his chest as his heart beat violently against his sore ribs. He was not trapped in a whirlpool of icy water: he was laying, shaking and sweating and gasping on a soft bed in a dark, cool hospital room. He rolled onto his back, staring wild-eyed around his room, clutching his sheets tight around him, before his panic faded slightly and he accepted that he was safe, that there was nothing there to hurt him.

He closed his eyes, feeling cold sweat run down his forehead, soaking through his bandages and stinging the cuts underneath. He took a few calming breaths. It was just a dream… just a dream… it was nothing… right? But the waves…those crushing waves had felt so real… the feeling of being broken like that horribly familiar to him. He tried hard to tell himself that it didn't mean anything; it was coincidence, nothing more. His eyes fluttered open and he glanced at the window; the sun had begun to sink out of sight and a strip of pale yellow-orange light filtered through a crack in the curtains, lying across the floor like a glowing scar.

Zexion raised a shaking hand to his forehead, brushing the sweat-soaked wisps of blue hair out of his eyes. He lowered his arm and rested the back of his hand over his eyes; he felt feverish, and his hand felt wonderfully like a frozen pack of ice against his burning skin. He stayed like that for a while- until his heart fell into a calmer, though still uneasy, rhythm; until his nerves began tingled with tense energy instead of full panic; and until all the cold had been leeched out of his hand, before he lowered his arm to his side again. He felt calmer now, although still a little shaken. Once again, he ignored the pain in his chest and forced himself to sit up.

His chest immediately resumed its dull throbbing, but it was his stomach that was calling for his attention. Zexion remembered that he hadn't eaten since he had arrived at the hospital, or for a day before that. He sighed and slipped out of bed; he wasn't about to trust the nurses to bring him food; he'd have to go find it for himself. Zexion stumbled a little as he made his way to the door; his legs were aching but not badly hurt, although they were slightly stiff from sleeping so long.

He pulled the door open and hesitated. The hospital's food was disgusting, if he remembered correctly, but he had seen a vending machine or two around, and he supposed he couldn't go wrong there. He turned and limped back to the bedside table and riffled through the pile of things he had had on him when he was brought to the hospital: his cell phone, his keys, his clothes (they had changed him into a hospital gown which, mercifully, was not the kind that let you see into the back) and lastly, his wallet. He dug it out of his pant's pocket and turned to the door, only to have his newly calm heart bound into his throat and his whole body freeze.

It only lasted a second. Something small and quick, fleeting as the flickering light of a firefly, had darted past the open door, and for a moment more its shadow, long and quivering, appeared on the wall facing Zexion's open door.

And suddenly Zexion was facing a closed, heavy oak door, listening to heavy footfalls on the other side. They were coming closer, and the shadow of something huge poured into the room from under the crack in the door, gliding smoothly, reaching towards him… Zexion was small and crouched on the floor, staring upwards through a haze of panic as the door opened and he saw, standing there, silhouetted against the light from the hall, something huge, something that seemed to be made from solid shadows… and Zexion knew that it was coming in, that the shadow was coming to take away the light; it was a darkness so thick it could have blotted out the sun…he knew it would descend into his room and engulf him… there was nothing he could do…

Zexion flinched, and he was back, staring at the open door and watching the shadow disappear as whatever it was got farther away…and he wasn't hearing huge, heavy footsteps echoing down the hall. No, the footsteps fading away were soft, quick and light, slapping the floor in a way that told Zexion that they were barefoot… like a child would be.

Zexion hesitated, then, moving swiftly and with his heart still throbbing in his throat, he made his way across the room and leaned out of the door to peer down the hallway. At the end of the hall he saw a flash of something white and yellow before the child turned a corner and vanished again. Zexion didn't know what was making him so curious, but as hurried down the hall to follow, he reflected that this whole situation was giving him a strange feeling, and for whatever reason, he thought that he was suppose to keep following.

He turned the corner into a second hallway, dimly lit and growing darker as the sun sank lower in the sky, and picked up his pace when he saw the hall was empty. Dark, unused rooms slid past on either side of him, but Zexion kept his eyes on the end of the hall, nervous, for whatever reason, at the thought of having lost his quarry. As he reached the end of the hallway, he slowed, listening hard and realizing that there were no footsteps except his own echoing off the walls. He reached the end of the hallway and glanced around the corners into the adjacent hall.

Down the hall to his left, something small was being bathed in golden light from the window behind and the bulbs overhead. Her pure white dress reflected the light, making her whole body seem to glow; it was a young girl with long, flowing yellow hair, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a notebook propped open on her knees. She stared sweetly into a window set into the wall in front of her. Zexion crept forward carefully; he had never been down this hallway before. After a few steps closer, he realized that this must be the children's ward, as the window showed the inside of what must have been a playroom. At the moment, the room was empty.

Zexion looked down at the girl, who didn't seem to realize that he was there, and noticed that she had a pencil held loosely in her hand, and that she was sketching the room before her. He stepped closer and tilted his head, trying to get a better look at the drawing, but he had apparently taken one step too close. The girl looked up, and her clear blue eyes widened in fear at once. She jumped to her feet, her sketchbook and pencil clattering to the floor, turned on her heels, and ran.

Zexion opened his mouth, "W-", but stopped himself; she was already too far away, and she probably wouldn't have listened anyways. He looked after her guiltily, then leaned down and scooped up her book before racing down the hall after her. Again, it didn't seem the girl knew that Zexion was following her, because she never looked back over her shoulder as she made her way down three more hallways. The girl finally darted into an open doorway, and Zexion stopped a little ways away, panting.

Zexion had passed through this section of the hospital before, even gone past this very door before, which led into a common room, but he had never stopped to look around. From what he had seen, though, he suspected that this particular lounge was used almost exclusively by teen-aged patients, and, given the extent of equipment most of the kids had hooked up, he assumed that the kids were in for the long-term.

He stood in the shadows, still breathing heavily, chewing on his bottom lip. Zexion had had virtually no contact with any other patients during his stays at this hospital. For one, he had had no desire whatsoever to get chummy with anybody, although he had, unintentionally, become close with some of the staff. Second, he was normally worse off than he was this visit, and so kept to his room most of the time. Still, it was just a quick visit, right? Just go in, give the girl the book, maybe say sorry for scaring her, then split. Easy. Zexion lifted his chin and marched to the doorway. Then he stopped and stared in amazement. He had never seen a room in the hospital look quite like this. He had never seen a room look so…alive.

There were kids everywhere, most of them Zexion's age, although some of them looking as young as 10. Kids in wheelchairs, kids with respirators, kids with IV's hooked to their arms, kids with bruises, abrasions, bandages, with pale skin and dark circles under their eyes were talking and laughing and for all intents and purposes, acting like normal, happy children. Some people were clumped around low tables, playing cards or looking at magazines, people lounged on squishy arm chairs and were talking with friends; a large group in the corner was grouped around a large TV that was playing the show "House". Zexion just stood in the doorway and stared. Maybe he was wrong, and these kids _weren't_ there for the long-term. If they were, they wouldn't be looking so happy. There wouldn't be _any_ laughter in that room had these kids been seriously sick… right? How could children who had such miserable lives be laughing like that, be acting so… happy?

Out of the corner of his eye Zexion saw the blond girl from before. She was trotting up to a boy with spiky, dirty-blond hair who was sitting in a wheelchair; he had a kind face which lit up when he saw the girl; he grinned at her, then lifted her by her arms to sit in his lap. The boy to whom he had been speaking reached over and ruffled the girl's hair; his hair was the same yellow color as the girl's, but his was short and spiked off to one side. The second boy looked up, and Zexion saw the smile slid off of his face, and the boy narrowed his eyes at him. The first boy saw his friend's face and also looked up, but his expression was that of innocent curiosity.

Zexion seemed to freeze, unsure of what to do. Then a voice nearby made him jump.

"Can I help you?" It was a nurse with short dark hair, to whom Zexion had never spoken.

"Erm…" Zexion began awkwardly, "that girl… over there. She, er, dropped this earlier… and I thought… thought she might…" He gestured towards the book in his hands and let his voice trail away.

"Oh!" the nurse said, reaching for the sketchbook, "Oh, thank you so much! She would be devastated if she lost this, I don't think I've ever seen her without it!" She smiled kindly and Zexion returned the smile awkwardly, allowing her to slip the book from his hands.

The woman looked down at Zexion with a soft expression; he tensed immediately and looked away, though he was careful to keep his gaze away from the two blond boys, who he suspected were still watching him.

"You know," She said, "I don't think I've ever seen you around before. What's your name? Which ward…?"

"You know…" Zexion cut her off, mumbling, "… I- ah – I think I should get going… you know… getting late…" He once again let his voice trail away and he backed through the doorway. As he turned to hurry away, his eyes grazed over the spot where the three blonds were sitting: the boy with yellow-blond hair was deep in conversation again, and the girl was snuggled into the other boy's chest, looking peaceful. The other boy, however, the one with the dirty-blond hair, sitting in a wheelchair, still had his gaze focused on Zexion, looking at him with his head tilted to one side, as if he were a puzzle. Careful not to lock eyes, Zexion turned and hustled out of view of the doorway.

And although the blond's curious gaze could only follow Zexion until he was out of sight, the uneasy feeling it gave him stuck to him as he made his way back to the room and into his bed, and lingered for a long time afterward.


	4. Ch 4: Whistles and Ponies

Note: Quick thanks to all those who reviewed!!

**Neon's Twisted Abyss** (Thank you so much for reviewing a second time!!), **AnimeLover237**, and **LiteraryMirage **thanks so much for the reviews!! You guys are too nice! ^^

I feel a little bad that this one is so short... I'll put the next one up quick to make up for it!

The dialogue in the beginning is from House... I just thought it was funny and didn't know what else to put there. *cough* Also, I love House, so take no offense if the character's don't! ^^;

The name of this chapter is an obscure reference to my favorite movie... cookies to whoever gets it! That is all!

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Chapter 4: Whistles and Ponies

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_"It's cute. You have a crush."_

_"Well, I think it's something _systemic._" His friend replied sardonically, leaning back in his chair, his feet resting comfortably on the desk between them._

_The first doctor also leaned back in his chair. "13's pretty," he said simply, "You're obviously okay with her."_

_His friend looked at him in disbelief, "She killed a patient!"_

_After a thoughtful pause, the other pointed out, "The bitch is pretty."_

_"The bitch is a bitch."_

_"Ask her out."_

_"The bitch?" He said, aghast. "She's a _bitch!_"_

_"No," the first said, "The one that's making you an idiot. It's the story of life," he went on, "Boy meets girl, boy gets stupid, boy and girl live stupidly ever after."_

There was a snort somewhere to his left, and a boy with spiked-up, dirty-blond hair looked away from the TV, where a rerun of the show "House" was playing. He looked around at his friend, who had yellow-blond hair spiked to one side and an expression of contempt.

"What?" He asked.

His friend gave another snort. "This show is _lame_." He said irritably. "Why don't they ever show anything that could actually _happen?_ I mean," he went on, ignoring the exasperated sigh that escaped his friend, "it's not like every damn patient that gets brought into a hospital has some incredibly rare, _treatable_ disease, that not only _doesn't_ kill the patient, but also leaves no lasting damage and can be cured in about 5 seconds. Seriously, have you noticed that every time he diagnoses somebody with a disease that's fatal or crippling, it always turns out to be the wrong diagnosis? And it's always something that nobody's ever heard of, and that no one's ever had before or will ever get again?"

He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, grumbling himself into silence, staring moodily at the floor.

The boy with dirty-blond hair, Demyx, sighed again, halfway between exasperation and amusement. He didn't much like the show either, but he doubted very much whether an imaginary doctor had anything to do with Roxas' sour mood. He knew his friend had a tendency to misplace his frustrations, and he thought he had an idea of what was really bothering him. But as Demyx looked over at the large group huddled around the TV, who, thankfully, were rapt with attention and therefore hadn't heard Roxas' tirade, he felt he still had a duty to help his friend keep his anger in check, misplaced or not.

Demyx tilted the wheelchair in which he was sitting backwards, balancing carefully, rolling his hands over the thin wheels to stay up. He turned the chair so that he was facing Roxas, who was lounging on one of the hospital's low armchairs.

Demyx looked at him sympathetically. "Look," he said, doing his best to sound calm and patient, "I know you're in a bad way right now…"

"I am not," Roxas cut in fiercely. Demyx ignored him.

"…but you've gotta chill out a little, alright? I mean," Demyx lowered the wheelchair back down, so that he was eye-level with Roxas, and he leaned forward so that his lowered voice could be heard over the commotion of the common room, "I know this month's been a little… rough for you. I get it, alright? But you've gotta try and put a lid on it while we're with the others. They've got enough to worry about without you going around acting all moody and depressed."

Roxas rolled his eyes, and Demyx's voice gained a bite of impatience.

"I mean it," he continued firmly, "the younger guys, they look up to you. They look up to all the older patients. And some of them are worse off then you and me. What're you telling them by acting all gloomy and depressed all the time? The reason they like that stupid show is 'cos they see people worse off then they are pull through to get healthy again. Gives them a bit of hope, ya know?"

"Well maybe that's not healthy for them." Roxas snapped. "Not everybody pulls through and lives happily ever after. Some people die, and others are stuck in a shitty hospital for the rest of their lives."

Demyx blinked, and after a moment he looked away and was silent. Roxas was thinking exactly was Demyx was afraid he was thinking. Anytime Roxas got into a good mood, it never lasted, because they always came back to this.

He sighed and looked back into his friend's eyes, "Rox…" he began. He stopped abruptly as he felt something tug on the hem of his shirt. He looked down and a pair of large blue eyes blinked back at him.

Demyx smiled and lifted the small girl, Namine, into his lap. Ruffling her hair he said,

"Hey, sweetie. Where did you run off to?"

She smiled sweetly at him, but said nothing as she settled comfortably, nuzzling into the older boy's chest. Demyx did not find this odd at all; after all, she never spoke, not to anyone. But Demyx continued to talk to her as if she could answer him, in the hopes that someday she would.

He ran his fingers absentmindedly through her long yellow hair and turned back to Roxas to continue the conversation, but as he did so he noticed something out of the corner of his eye, and stopped. There was a boy standing in the doorway, a boy whom Demyx had never seen before. His face was hidden by grayish-blue hair and he was staring around the common room, looking nervous and out of place. A crease appeared between Demyx's eyebrows as he stared at the boy; Roxas noticed this and followed his gaze to the doorway. As he watched, the boy's eyes swept the place where the three blonds were sitting, looking away quickly when he saw them looking back.

Demyx looked at Roxas with raised eyebrows and Roxas gave him a suspicious look and a shrug. Roxas turned back to the television, mumbling more about the unreality of the show; Demyx, however, kept his gaze glued to the boy. There was something about the way he looked into the room, something about the way he tilted his head so that his hair hid his eyes, and the way he shifted his weight nervously between his feet…

As he watched, a nurse came up to the blue-haired boy, and Demyx saw the boy shift nervously, not making eye contact. The nurse then took something from the boy's hands and as soon as the book was free, the boy turned and left as fast as he could without running. The boy glanced back at the doorway, only for a second, and then he was gone.

Demyx sat watching the doorway, his head feeling very empty and light all of a sudden. He felt so distracted that he barely registered it when the nurse came over and handed Namine her book, saying that the boy had found it somewhere, and he didn't even bother correcting Roxas as he continued his rant about hospital-themed shows.

He had never even seen the boy before, but felt a burning curiosity to know more. But of course, he would have to meet the boy first. He wasn't even sure what about the boy was holding his attention, but there was something so odd about the way he had looked in at them. There was something in his eyes and the way he moved that Demyx could see, even from across the room. Some subtle little look, somewhere between sadness and confusion, something almost like…

Jealousy?


	5. Ch 5: Boy Meets Boy

Note: I just wanted to say thank you to everybody who reviewed or favorited my story!! Sorry this one took a while to get up!

Happy christmas everyone!

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Everybody Lies

Chapter 5: Boy meets Boy

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"Goooood morning, sunshine!!"

Roxas' eyelids snapped open, the shrill, perky voice as successful at pulling him from sleep as a punch to the temple. He squinted in the brilliant sunlight, which seemed to gouge painfully at his bleary eyes and silhouetted the figure hovering over his hospital bed. Roxas rubbed wearily at his aching eyes, and Demyx's face swam into focus, bright-eyed and grinning roguishly.

He groaned. "Th' hell d'you wan'?" He grumbled.

"Aww, wassamatter?" Demyx smirked, "Ish Roxy still sleepy?"

Roxas scowled. Roxas loved the boy, he really did, and they had been friends for a long time, but so help him, if he had to wake up to that shit-eating grin one more time…

"DON'T," Roxas snarled, "call me that, Demyx!"

"Call you what?" Demyx asked, feigning innocent curiosity, as if Roxas hadn't bitched himself hoarse yelling at him for this very offense. "Roxy?" His cheeky grin returned with a vengeance, sliding naturally back into place on the face it nearly never left.

Roxas answered with what sounded like an indignant cough, and continued to glower at his best friend's sunny visage which, far from humbling the mullet-ed boy, made him laugh.

"Aww, c'mon now." He chuckled, "No need to get so worked up so early in the morning. It was for your own good, you know. Stay in bed much longer and you'll go comatose. We can't have that, now, can we?"

With a swift wink, Demyx leaded away and seemed to fall straight back, out of sight. Roxas blinked and looked down to see that Demyx had landed in his wheelchair. He leaned back and carefully tried to get the chair to balance, which he did almost every time he sat in it. Roxas frowned at him. How Demyx managed to be so chipper and energetic in the mornings, he would never know.

"So," Roxas mumbled, causing Demyx to look up, "where's the fire this morning?"

Demyx gave him a sly grin. "Oh, it's nothing." He said in an attempt to sound casual, "I just figured, you know, we- that is, you and I- could take a walk around the hospital. See what's what. Besides," Demyx let the wheelchair down and smirked; Roxas raised his eyebrows. "You never know what kind of interesting new patients might be hangin' around."

Roxas managed not to roll his eyes, but only barely. So that's what it was. Sometimes Roxas thought that Demyx was too friendly for his own good. See, Demyx seemed to make it his policy to befriend each and every person who set foot into the hospital, like he expected them all to be one big, happy family or something. Roxas was just happy to keep to himself, preferring his own hospital room even to the common room where most of the kids his age hung out, but not Demyx. That boy was never happy unless he was moving about the hospital, where at any given location he was surrounded by a half-dozen people. And he tended to drag Roxas along with him. It got a bit…tiring.

Roxas heaved a sigh, absentmindedly massaging the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "And there's no chance that for once you'd, oh, I dunno, do this on your own and leave me be?"

"No chance at all." Demyx replied.

"Fine." He grumbled. "But if we're going to go anywhere you'll have to get your _ass_," he cuffed Demyx in the head, which was the closest part of him Roxas could reach, "out of my chair."

"You're a pal, Roxas." Demyx grinned, jumping up and massaging the back of his head, too used to the routine to be perturbed by Roxas' attitude. "And besides," Demyx added, as he began to help Roxas out of bed and into the wheelchair, "I can push you if you're too tired to wheel yourself around."

You wouldn't know the two were friends by the way Roxas scowled at him. "You are NOT," he said, "pushing _me_ anywhere. Got it?"

.

.

20 minutes later, Demyx was pushing a very resentful Roxas towards the nurses' station at the heart of the hospital. Demyx was looking for someone specific, and when one wanted to know, well, _anything_ that was going on in the hospital, the nurses' station was the place to go. The girls there were nothing if not gossips.

The nurses' station came into view, bustling with activity and noisy with excited, giggly chatter. Demyx often couldn't help seeing similarities between the hospital and the high school he used to attend. As he looked at the nurses, all gossiping and giggling and wearing bright scrubs in colors like pink and purple, he was forcibly reminded of a group of overexcited cheerleaders. Most of the girls were nice enough, but they were also a bit snobbish and tended to judge pretty much everybody, including each other. And to top it all, just like in any cheerleading squad, there was one lonely guy in the group trying to be one of the girls.

"Hey there, boys!" called Marluxia, (the only male nurse on staff at the hospital) spotting them and waving. "Don't be shy, come on over!"

Demyx waved back and prepared to wheel Roxas closer, but found that he couldn't. He looked down and saw that Roxas had planted his hands firmly on the wheels, preventing them from turning. He turned and glared at Demyx.

"I can take it from here." He said stubbornly, "You go on, I'll catch up."

"Don't be silly," Demyx said, "I'll just push you, I don't mind."

"Well I do," Roxas said testily. "I hate having people push me, I can do it myself!"

Well fine, Demyx thought, if he was gonna be stubborn, then he'd take the offensive.

"Really? You _hate_ it…?" Demyx strode around the chair, so that he was in front of Roxas, smiling playfully down at him. "That's funny… I don't think I've ever heard you complain when _he _pushes you."

"I…I don't… know what you mean." Roxas said jerkily, looking anywhere but at Demyx, his cheeks burning suddenly.

"Sure you do!" Demyx said cheerfully, leaning down and trying to catch his eye. "I've seen the two of you around, him pushing your chair around oh-so-lovingly, you giggling at all his jokes. I don't think I've_ ever_ heard you _giggle_ before! Must be, oh, what do they call it…? Puppy love? Ah, a patient/doctor couple, it's just adorable."

Roxas' face had been growing steadily redder, and by the end he was blushing so hard his skin was crimson from his neckline to the tips of his ears. And still he refused to look at Demyx. Demyx grinned triumphantly; oh, how he loved to mess with Roxas, and he was downright hilarious when he was embarrassed.

Demyx chuckled and Roxas crossed his arms firmly across his chest. "Well," he said, straightening up, still grinning, "I'll be over with the nurses if you need me, there's something I gotta do. In the meantime why don't you, you know… find that handsome doctor of yours." Demyx gave him a sly wink and started walking towards the station, and so missed Roxas' look of indignity.

Demyx sauntered over to the nurses' station, grinning and raising a hand at the many cries of greetings he received. He approached Marluxia, who sported long, light-pink hair and flowery scrubs, and who turned from his conversation with the head nurse, a blond woman named Larxene, to give Demyx a flirtatious grin.

"Hey, baby, what's happenin'?" Marluxia asked, winking. Marluxia tended to flirt openly with anyone and everyone, man or woman, but he had a particular liking for teasing and torturing the younger ones. It was shocking, what with his behavior, his pink hair, and his love of growing flowers and then scattering them about the hospital, that the man was able to retain any bit of masculinity. But somehow he managed it, and although everyone was curious, most agreed that they really didn't want to know how it was done.

Larxene rolled her eyes at her best friend. The blond woman was best friends with the pink-haired nurse and shared his love of spreading rumors and torturing people with information she shouldn't have. But while Marluxia was more flirty and playful, Larxene was, well… just downright mean. Most of the patients were terrified of her, and it was common to see a sick kid cowering under his bed, while Larxene waved a needle through the air and insisted that she 'had barely touched the kid'. Not so long ago she had been appointed head nurse, not because of her abilities, but because it would mean she was too busy with paperwork to torment… that is, _see_ patients.

Demyx didn't particularly like either of them, but they were the biggest gossips of them all, and always tended to have a slew of information that they shouldn't have.

Demyx took a breath and said, in a forced-casual kind of way, "Actually…um… I was hoping that you, uh, might be able to…ah, help me. With something."

Demyx saw them exchange a look, and saw a vicious grin spread across Larxene's face, and immediately wondered whether it was a bad idea to recruit these two for help. The girl was no doubt already wondering what she could get in return for their help.

"Not that you have to _do_ anything," Demyx went on quickly, "I'd just like, you know, a little bit of info, if you've got it. Not a big deal." Demyx ended with a strained kind of smile, wondering if he would regret this later.

Larxene frowned, obviously disappointed. Information didn't warrant as big a return as if Demyx had asked them to, say, kill somebody. Larxene had no doubt hoped that he would ask for a huge favor and that she could in turn force him to do something humiliating in exchange.

After a moment Larxene seemed to decide that a small favor was better than no favor. "Okay, shorty," she said (Demyx decided against pointing out that he was, in fact, almost as tall as she was) "What can we do ya for?"

Demyx hesitated, wondering how best to phrase his question, and when he spoke he chose his words very carefully. "A few days ago… I saw a boy…um… pass by the common room. I've never seen him before, so… he isn't in the same ward as we are, obviously, and I think he must be a… a fairly new patient. I was just wondering, out of curiosity… whether or not you might know who he is." Demyx ended slightly nervously, eying the pair cautiously.

Larxene and Marluxia looked at each other for a full 30 seconds, then, at the exact same time, they turned back to Demyx with identical smirks.

"So," Larxene said in an offhand voice. "It's just out of curiosity, is it? There's no, I dunno, _other_ reason you might want to find this guy?"

"Is he at least cute?" Marluxia snickered.

Demyx felt a sudden heat rise in his face. Why _was_ he so interested in finding this guy? He stammered for a moment, but before he managed to say anything, he happened to glance to his right. He stared, frozen, completely unable to believe his luck. Two blue-haired men were walking down the hallway together- one was an adult, tall and imposing, with long, shaggy blue hair and an X-shaped scar across his face, the other a short teenaged boy with grayish-blue hair and deep blue eyes. Saix seemed to be doing the talking, trying to engage the boy, who was stubbornly silent and wore a sour expression.

Demyx gaped for a few long minutes before he was able to pull himself together. Demyx swallowed hard and muttered quickly to the two nurses, "Never mind… forget I said anything." Without waiting for an answer, he side-stepped around the counter and made his way bravely over to the pair.

Saix looked up as he approached. He gave him a curious smile; Saix knew Demyx fairly well, as he made it a policy to get to know every young person who was in the hospital long-term, and he didn't think he'd ever seen the happy-go-lucky boy ever look so anxious. As Demyx got closer, he managed to rein in his nerves and give the two a forcibly friendly smile.

"Hello, Saix," he mumbled, his eyes darting nervously to the boy, who wasn't looking up at him. "Long time no see."

"Yes," Saix agreed, "It has been a while. How have you been doing?"

"Fine," Demyx said at once.

There was an awkward pause, before Saix cleared his throat and said calmly, "I don't think you two have met. Zexion's been a frequent flier at the hospital for the last few years, but I daresay you two wouldn't have crossed paths."

"Hey," Demyx said eagerly. "I'm Demyx. I saw me, I mean you, in the common room, remember? You came looking for Namine. The blond girl. I was in the wheelchair, but I don't actually have to use one, it was my friend's. I was just sitting in it. Heh. I'm, uh… it's nice to meet you!" He was talking in a very fast, feverish way. Demyx cringed internally, his insides burning with embarrassment. Their first ever conversation and he was practically jumping down the kid's throat. _He must think I'm an idiot!_

_What an idiot_ Zexion thought. He raised his eyebrows at the boy, who was looking at him with bright, wide-eyed interest, like he was a little kid and Zexion was a piece of candy. And he was way too eager just to say hi.

"Yea, right. Hi." He said in a bored voice. "I'm Zexion. And it's nice to meet you too… I guess."

There was another awkward pause, during which Zexion looked at the ground moodily, and Demyx continued to stare expectantly at him. Demyx looked at Saix for help, but he just grimaced, as if he was saying, 'Sorry, that's just the way he is.'

Demyx gave an awkward cough and tried again. "So, uhm…"

"I'm going back to my room." Zexion cut him off sharply. And without further adieu, he turned on his heel and stalked away.

Demyx stared after him with his mouth slightly open. He considered calling after him, but what would he say? He closed his mouth in a defeated sort of way, sighing and feeling extremely disappointed. Saix apparently did not notice, and after a moment he too turned and walked away without saying anything more.

Demyx sighed again, his shoulders slumping slightly. _Well, that could have gone better_. He thought. Thinking that he should ask Roxas' advice on what to do next, he turned around, only to see that Roxas' attention was currently diverted to the tall, strapping, red-headed doctor standing next to him.

The doctor, Axel, was friends with both Roxas and Demyx, and had been since they had both come to view the hospital as their home. But lately the other two had become to get close in a way that made Demyx feel distinctly like a third wheel. He looked at them now, and it seemed like Axel must be telling one of his racy jokes, because he was smirking and Roxas was laughing with his hand over his mouth, and as Demyx watched he reached out a hand to hit Axel lightly on the arm, looking at the taller boy shyly.

Demyx continued to watch as the two of them talked and flirted, and after a few minutes Axel walked behind Roxas' chair, ruffling the blond's hair and pushing him down a side hallway. They turned a corner, but Demyx could still hear Roxas' laughter as it faded away.

He didn't know why, but seeing the two of them together like that always made his stomach hurt, like it was twisting itself in two. Suddenly the idea of being alone was unbearable, and he felt his throat constrict. He knew that he could always follow the other two and hang out with them, and that they would let him, but he also knew that the other two wouldn't want him to. The thought made him feel strangely lonely.

He stood alone in the middle of the hallway for a few minutes, ignoring the few people who passed by him. Roxas had hated Axel when the two had first met, hadn't he? He had thought the doctor was arrogant and vulgar and had wanted nothing to do with him. How had Axel gotten past that? All Axel's attempts to get close to the boy had seemed to fail, his harassment only serving to make Roxas angrier. And now the two were inseparable. How had Axel done it?

He could still see the look on Zexion's face: it was a kind of cold indifference, bordering on disgust. Demyx sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought.


	6. Ch 6: Fear and Frustration

**AN:** Thank you thank you thank you to everybody who reviewed on this!! You guys motivate me with your kind words xD

I decided to respond to reviews on here, because it seems easier than sending individual replies... so here you go!

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**luckless-is-me: **Yes, poor Demyx is nothing if not persistent. And don't worry, he's not giving up that easily. ;D

**Neon's Twisted Abyss: **Haha, yea, I thought Demyx would be the type of guy to steal wheelchairs and have fun with them xD And at least Demyx has Roxy to hang out with, even if Roxas is a grump. Thanks, as always!!

**kira1525:** Thank you so much!! I hope I didn't keep you guys waiting too long!

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Here's the next chapter and, as always, enjoy!

* * *

Everybody Lies

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Chapter 6: Fear and Frustration

* * *

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"Are you willing to do exactly what I tell you to do, exactly when I tell you to do it?"

"Yes."

"If I tell you to jump, you say…?"

Demyx responded nervously, "How high?"

"No!" Axel snapped, cuffing the back of Demyx's head. "You don't say anything! You just jump! Got it?"

"Got it," He whimpered, massaging the back of his head.

"Good." Axel said, "Then let's get down to business." Axel was sitting across from Demyx in the lunch room, straddling a backwards-facing chair, and now he leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands and staring at his friend seriously.

"Now," Axel went on, "The guy in question: what do you know about him?"

"Err…" Demyx shifted nervously, "Well, he, uh… his name's Zexion and he's, well, a patient… here…"

Axel raised his eyebrows, "I see… well, I see that you two were made for each other. I mean, _he's_ a patient, _you're_ a patient, you both have _names_. The depth of your spiritual connection blows my mind, honestly. When's the wedding?"

Demyx responded with a filthy look. "Alright, so… so I don't know that much about him, alright? I haven't exactly had a chance to talk to him yet. _But-!_" he went on quickly, seeing Axel about to interrupt, "I know for a fact that you had a crush on Roxas weeks before he would even have a real conversation with you. I just want a chance with him, that's all."

"Alright, you've got a point there," Axel admitted, smirking, "I mean, Roxas hated me at first too. I mean, _I_ knew from the first _second_ that we were meant to be, and sure, Roxas _tried _to fight it, but he couldn't possibly resist my charms forever. Who could? And now, well, you can see it yourself, the boy lives and dies for me, he _adores_ me, he…"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Demyx cut in, "I get it, okay? The question I want answered is _how?_"

"How?" Axel laughed, "Well, haven't I just said? With my grace, my charms, my devilishly good looks, no mortal, man or woman, could hope to resist. Sometimes it's a curse, being so perfect in every way, but what's a man to do?"

Demyx gave him a long, sour look. He knew Axel well enough by now to recognize when he was being obnoxious on purpose. Although Demyx couldn't really blame Axel for acting this way; the man was obviously smitten, and that tends to make people act, well, stupid. On the other hand, Roxas never rambled on quite like Axel did; Roxas seemed determined to keep his love life to himself, which was fine by Demyx.

Demyx cleared his throat and tried again, in a voice of forced patience, "Seriously, though. What I meant was, how- _exactly-_ did you get Roxas to stop hating you long enough to start a relationship with him?"

Axel considered for a moment, leaning back and tilting his head this way and that. "In all seriousness," Axel began finally, and then he hesitated. Sitting up straighter, he turned to look around the lunch room, as though checking if anyone was listening in. Then he leaned closer and lowered his voice so much that Demyx had to lean forward to hear him.

"I have no idea." Axel muttered.

Demyx stared. "What do you mean you have no idea?"

Axel grinned sheepishly. "I… uh, _well_… I have no idea what made Roxas start liking me. But, I mean," He went on, seeing the look on Demyx's face, "You know how I acted around him before that… I hung around him all the time, and just tried to, you know, get him to notice me. Make him laugh, or whatever. I mean, most of the time when he was talking to me, it was to tell me to get lost. But at least he was talking to me." He shrugged. "Does that help?"

"So, basically," Demyx sighed, "You're saying I should annoy him into liking me."

"Pretty much."

Demyx groaned. _This isn't going to end well._

_._

_.  
_

_This is going to end badly. _Zexion thought.

It was bad enough that the hospital's therapist was forever on his case, always prodding and pestering and asking stupid questions. But now he was recruiting other people to bother him as well.

Which was why Zexion was in such a foul mood this morning. He was irritated beyond belief, although not particularly surprised, that Saix had decided to recruit another doctor to monitor him, just in case he got the urge to spill his guts to a complete stranger. Although, as far as interrogators go, Zexion wasn't sure Saix had made the right choice. Lexaeus had been hanging around his hospital room for over an hour now and hadn't said more than a few words to Zexion, even though he watched his every move closely, which was starting to give Zexion the creeps.

This wasn't the worst of it, however. Even though his little "accident" had brought him to the hospital, he wasn't really all that hurt. He could walk on his own, and he had learned earlier that day that the worst of his injuries lay in his bruised ribs, fractured wrist and a few cuts and bruises along his head and face (which he had yet to see, because of the heavy bandaging). All in all, he thought that he was fairly lucky to escape with such minor injuries, considering, and that he could probably have taken it from there, but his doctors had other ideas; which brought us back to Zexion's mood.

Saix had been in early that morning to inform Zexion that he was going to have to stay in the hospital for a few more days, at the least, just so Saix could make sure he was "healing properly" and that there were "no complications." This was bull, and Zexion knew it; he knew that Saix only wanted a few more days to grill him about his accident, but there was nothing he could do about it. He would just have to make the best of it, grit his teeth, and wait it out. Well, he thought, if Lexaeus was the best Saix could do, it wouldn't be all that difficult to keep his silence.

Lexaeus acting as his guard dog had its merits, of course, in that he didn't have to deal with anybody asking him questions and trying to trick him into giving something away, but having a silent companion made him feel uncomfortable (the man was a giant, after all) and a little bit… well, lonely. Zexion wanted more than anything to get away from him, but he wasn't completely sure if his plan for it was going to go over well. Well, anything was better than sitting in silence, he supposed.

"Um…" He began awkwardly. Lex turned his head slowly to look at Zexion, who was lying in his bed; his impassive expression was anything but encouraging. "I, uh… I think I might be ready to speak with Saix now."

Without a word, Lexaeus strode across the room and out the door, presumably to fetch Saix. Zexion blinked. Well, he thought, that was easier than expected.

.

10 minutes later, Zexion was walking down the hospital corridors, staring at his feet and deep in thought, barely paying attention to where he was going. What on earth was he going to do with himself for the next few days? He came to a corner and low voices met his ears, but he didn't stop to listen until his own name caught his attention.

"I honestly don't know what to do with him," said a man's voice, "Zexion's been in and out of here more times than I can count, but he still insists on treating this place like an inconvenient, treating us like we're the enemy. How can we be expected to help him when he doesn't want our help? When he doesn't even trust us? It's just… so frustrating."

"Maybe that's just it," answered another voice, a woman's this time. "Maybe we can't help him just yet. He'll only accept that there's a problem until somebody he trusts tells him so. He won't accept help until somebody he trusts offers it."

"He doesn't trust _anyone._" the man said heavily.

"Then maybe there's nothing we can do."

Zexion leaned against the wall, out of sight, clenching his fists, his face screwed up in anger. How _dare_ they. How _dare_ they speak about him as though he were some idiotic child. How dare they suggest that this was _his_ fault. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't. It couldn't be.

Zexion waited there with his eyes closed and his jaw set, breathing deeply, hearing as though from far away as another voice joined the two, telling the man that he, Zexion, wanted to speak to him. He listened as Saix bid the female nurse goodbye and left with Lexaeus, and in the back of his brain he put it together than the woman was a nurse named Xion; the same nurse he had spoken to briefly after he had followed the little blond girl.

He waited until the footsteps had faded away completely before pushing himself away from the wall and turning the corner. He realized that he was not the only person who had been eavesdropping when he ran sharply into the annoying blond boy from the other day: Demyx.

The two stared at each other, both equally shocked to discover the other, and for a moment neither of them spoke. Then Demyx looked down and realized that neither had backed away after running into the other, and that they were standing with their chests almost touching. Demyx backtracked quickly, so quickly he nearly tripped himself, and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Oh, um… I, uh…I was just…" Demyx blushed and shifted uncomfortably, his feeble attempt at a smile sliding off his face. "I didn't mean to, but… but I couldn't help but hear… you know…"

Zexion stared up into his face, feeling a weird swooping sensation in his stomach as he saw the taller boy looking at him sympathetically. He thought it was anger at first, but after a moment he found that he didn't really mind that the other boy had heard the conversation about him. Demyx rubbed the back of his head nervously, and gave him a cautious smile. With another swoop to his stomach, Zexion felt himself going red and turned away quickly.

"So… uh. Listen," Demyx began again, "I don't mean to pry or anything but… it kinda sounds like you've got some stuff to deal with, huh? What I mean is, um… if you need to talk or anything…" he gave a nervous little laugh. "I know you don't really know me, but uh, I've been told I'm a good listener." Zexion still hadn't said anything and refused to look up, and Demyx reached out hesitantly. "So, uh, if you ever need to get the doctors off your back or anything… I've been here a while, and I guess I understand about this stuff better than most, y'know?"

Zexion looked up at him with a strange look on his face. Was Demyx offering to help him? Why would a person he barely even knew… a person he had just met ever offer to help _him_? What could he possibly gain from helping a complete stranger? But as Zexion looked up into his eyes, searching for some hint of dishonesty, looking for the hidden agenda behind the blue/green eyes, he found none. The eyes were wide and kind and… genuine. Zexion couldn't remember the last time he had thought that about somebody, but there it was. His eyes were genuine and honest and…

Zexion suddenly realized that Demyx's hand had been resting on his arm, and it startled him at how comforting the warm weight of his hand felt against him. Why didn't he feel like he always did when somebody touched him? Why wasn't he throwing off his hand… why didn't he _want_ to throw off his hand? Zexion broke eye contact and moved away from Demyx's hand, mentally shaking himself as he did so. He needed to get a grip on himself; was he honestly going to start getting misty just because some kid was trying to understand him? Was he seriously going to let his guard down for a pair of honest eyes? There was no point in getting attached; this boy couldn't really want to help him; he couldn't really understand him; he didn't even _know_ him.

"Thanks," Zexion said quietly, wincing at the gentles of his voice; he had meant to sound cold and indifferent. "But I don't need help."

Zexion didn't know how, but Demyx seemed to know that Zexion had said this very phrase to hundreds of different people before. There was something knowing in the smile Demyx gave him as he said, "Okay, well… even if you ever just want somebody to hang with, you can track me down, alright?"

Zexion didn't look up; he turned and began to walk away as he said, "I really just want to be left alone."

Zexion walked back the way he came, a weird ringing echoed around his head, feeling slightly dazed. He wasn't aware of Demyx watching him as he went, but as soon as he turned a corner and was out of the blond's sight, he broke into a run. He ignored the stares and the calls of the people he shot past, and ignored the pain in his chest as his breath began to come heavy and fast. He reached his room before he was ready to stop running, but he halted anyways and darted inside. He shut the door with more force than he'd meant to and hurried over to his bed and under the covers.

He was relieved beyond belief that there was nobody waiting for him to return, and he supposed this meant that Lex and Saix had already discovered him missing. He wasn't worried, however; Saix wasn't an idiot, and he must have known that Zexion would ditch his guard sooner or later. It was only early afternoon but Zexion thought that he was probably safe for the rest of the day; Saix wouldn't return for the attack until he had given Zexion time to let his guard down again.

Zexion spent a few minutes curled under his covers, feeling his heart rate slowly returning to normal, and it suddenly occurred to him how very childish he seemed- running all the way back to his room and then huddling under the sheets like some scared little kid, all because of one conversation.

He sat up slowly and put his arms around his knees, thinking hard and staring at nothing. Maybe that boy was bothering him so much because he reminded him of someone… he remembered the look on Demyx's face as he looked at him; it didn't make any sense, they way he had looked at him. People didn't look at strangers like that, they just didn't. You weren't suppose to look at people you barely knew like you wanted to understand them, like you wanted to help them… it didn't make sense. As he remembered that look full of sympathy, Zexion suddenly saw another face flash across his mind- a kind face with soft features and bright eyes, looking down at him and smiling… a face he hadn't seen for a long, long time…

Zexion buried his face in his knees and brought his hands to his head, gripping his hair so fiercely that it hurt. He let out a howl of frustration which nobody heard but him… because, as he had said earlier, and so many times before that, Zexion just wanted to be alone.


End file.
